


Not never

by greenet



Category: Bandom, Empires, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-02
Updated: 2008-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenet/pseuds/greenet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to take your picture," Tom says and watches her with wary cat-eyes from where he's sitting on the desk chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not never

**Author's Note:**

> written for Porn Battle VI for the prompt Bandom, Empires/Panic at the Disco, girl!Jon/Tom, hoodies.

The first time, she's drunk. Actually, she's 'falling down, room is spinning, lie very, very still and maybe I won't puke' drunk. She's seventeen. She's crawled over to the side of the couch and she's going to stay there, and maybe, maybe have a nap. Nick probably won't mind.

"Joni, Joooni," Tom sings. "Where's my birthday girl?"

She opens her eyes and squints in the general direction of his voice, then waves an arm in the air, since it seems easier than speaking. He beams when he spots her and ambles over, flopping down in the couch next to her. "There you are! You disappeared," he says, reproachfully.

Joni rubs her head against his shoulder apologetically. "Beer bad," she says. "Ver', ver' bad."

He grins. "You think it's bad now, wait until tomorrow."

"Ugh!" Joni says, emphatically, and he laughs and kisses her, laughing into her mouth. It's nice, until Joni goes 'urghle' and throws up on Nick's new carpet.

The second time, she's. well, still drunk, since apparently on tour TAI lives off cheap booze and snack bars, but she's not going to throw up anywhere any time soon.

They're playing around with the cameras, competing for the weirdest shot. Sisky has deemed them incredibly nerdy and lame and wandered off. Butcher is competing as well, while Bill and Mike are lounging on the ground alternating between watching them indulgently and babbling cryptically about matadors.

"Hey," Bill says suddenly. "What does the winner get, anyway?"

"Eternal glory," Joni replies.

"A kiss!" Butcher suggests.

"Both," Mike decides, squinting at them. "I'll judge, that way it'll be fair -- shut up, William."

Two cities later, Mike announces Tom the winner. He's crowned amidst cheers with a paper crown stolen from a kid's birthday party at a diner which Mike has written Eternal Glory on, and told to grab someone and get his smoochies on. The cat-calls and offers start immidiately. Tom rolls his eyes, and he's reddening, either from embarrassment or pleasure, it's hard to tell.

They're all just standing there for a minute, Tom looking more and more like he wants to run away. Joni rolls her own eyes, hands her camera over to Sisky, and steps forwards.

Tom blinks at her, surprised.

"I think I totally deserve a kiss too, as the runner up," Joni announces. She grabs Tom by the ears, and they're kissing to loud cheers and even louder cat-calls.

After that it happens on and off, just sometimes, when they're drunk or bored or just whatever, but they never do anything other than kiss until much later when Joni's with the Panic boys and Tom's not with anybody at all. Joni shares her hotel room with him, and tries to cheer him up as much as she can.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

"I want to take your picture," Tom says and watches her with wary cat-eyes from where he's sitting on the desk chair.

She grins over her laptop. "You take my picture all the time. Like five minutes ago. I heard the snap, you know."

"No, properly, with you posing," Tom explains. "On the bed."

"I am on the-- oh," she interrupts herself, getting it. She sits up, pushing her bangs back. "Tom, I'm not, I mean--"

"Forget it, it was stupid, never mind," he says quickly, talking over her, and turning around. She rolls her eyes and throws a pillow at him. "Hey!" Tom twists back, frowning at her.

"I'll totally do it, you idiot," Joni huffs, exasperated. "I'm just crap at posing, you know that."

"Oh," Tom says, a tiny uncertain smile forming. "You do all right."

"Just don't blame me when your photos turn out crap," Joni says, and then she's unzipping her hoodie and shaking it off before pulling her t-shirt over her head. There's a sharp inhale of breath from Tom, and she stops, t-shirt half-way off. "That's what you meant, right?"

"Yeah," and a little firmer, "yes. Keep going."

It's okay until everything is off and she's lying naked on the bed, and she's not usually self-conscious at all, but she can't see Tom's eyes behind the camera, and it's kind of awkward. She reaches back, grabbing the headboard to ground herself, glancing over at Tom to see if it's okay.

"Jesus, Joni." Tom snaps a photo before lowering the camera, staring at her.

She spreads her legs, bending one at the knee until it feels comfortable. She's half-wondering if it would be weird to take a time-out to look up erotic photos on the internet, because Tom isn't giving her any directions, and she's not really sure what he's expecting from her. "Yes?"

"Do you have any idea what you look like?" Tom steps closer, finally walking away from the desk and coming to the bed. That's better.

"No, but you're going to show me, right?" Joni grins up at him, mentally shaking off the awkwardness. It's just Tom. "What do you want me to do?"

He studies her for a moment, head tilted, then he lifts his camera up. "Move your other hand to the headboard, and arch your back."

She does, but "I feel like an idiot," she complains.

"You don't look like it," Tom assures her. His voice goes low and caressing. "You look fucking amazing."

Joni blushes, and doesn't even try to stop the shiver going through her. She hasn't heard him talk like that before, not ever. Her grip tightens, and her stomach feels warm and full of nervous butterflies, but it's not... not uncomfortable.

"Touch yourself, one hand only, keep the other one in place," Tom says, voice still in that new, unfamiliar register. "Good, that's... Good. Pinch your nipple, yeah, like that. Spread your legs more, and stay still for me."

Joni can't really hear the camera anymore, it's faded into the background, all she hears over her own breathing is Tom's voice, telling her what do to. At some point her eyes close, and she loses herself in her own touch and Tom's instructions.

Down her chest, feather-light across her stomach, stroking her thigh, down and around to palm her ass, and hand back up to the headboard while she crosses feet at the ankles. She presses her ass down, but he tells her to hold still again. She does, but not without whimpering pathetically.

"You're... You're into this."

Why Tom sounds surprised, Joni has no idea. She opens her eyes again, giving him a Look.

He's lowered the camera again, just watching her, eyes wide and dark. She sneaks a glance, and yeah, he's hard. She thought so, but still, it's good to know. "Touch your clit. Lightly."

She jerks up into her hand when she does, biting back a moan.

"Gorgeous, Joni. You're so fucking--" Tom breaks off. "Two fingers inside, and you can spread your legs again now."

She whines even as she sinks her fingers into the wet slickness, into herself, pushing up with her hips. It doesn't work, it's not enough, it's just a tease again. "Tom, please!"

Tom meets her eyes. He bites his lip and she wants to be doing that. The camera's been left on the chair. "You want to get yourself off, or do you want me to?" he asks. "You want my mouth, Joni? My hands?"

"You, yes," she says. She doesn't stop moving her fingers, but she lets go of the headboard with the other, reaches out for him. "Please, Tom."

He crawls on to the bed with her, still fully dressed in a hoodie stolen from Brendon, t-shirt and jeans. He settles between her legs, glancing up at her. "Gonna let me take over?" he asks before ducking his head and licking around her fingers.

Joni gasps, breath hitching as she pulls her fingers away, moves her hand back to her breast, and lets the other dig into Tom's hair as he licks and sucks. She's chanting his name when she comes, thighs clenching around his head.

And it's good, it's great, but it's not enough.

"Condoms," she says, panting. "Do you have any?"

Tom sits back, licking his lips absently. "What? Yeah, I... Are you sure?"

She glares at him. "Thomas Conrad, I swear to god, if you don't fuck me now, I will hurt you."

He pets her thigh, grinning suddenly. "Joni Walker, you really don't have to threaten me to get me to fuck you. I am absolutely happy to do it."

"Then get to it," Joni demands.

Tom, probably knowing what's best for him, does.


End file.
